Happy Baby

How three pre-teens granted me peace

It’s a snowy Thursday night and I’m at church. My church. The church of Yoga Roots in Shaker Heights. It’s a sunset practice and the studio is lined with twinkling tea lights.

My favorite instructor, Heather, who has the affect of a kindergarten teacher, starts:

“On your own time, make your way to your hands and knees for Cat Cow.”

I love how she takes all the pressure off of everything, right from the start. Like pulling the tab off a pop can. Sweet release.

In my table top, I purrrr like a cat, then carrrrve like a cow.

Heather tells us to treat our thoughts like waves breaking in the sand.

Watch them come and go.

Come

and

go.

On this day, yoga feels especially medicinal. I had looked forward to it all week, knowing I could bring all my baggage to the mat and leave it there. And when I’d walk out, I wouldn’t walk. I’d float. Like Alex Mac goo, right under the door.

So I’m splayed out like a starfish on my back, watching my thoughts.

Come and go.

Come

and

go.

And then ...

The giggling starts.

What sounds like pre-teen girls curled under covers at a slumber party. They’re busting a gut after each instruction, unable to bear the long stretches of quiet or silliness of Happy Baby. Heather asks them to settle down and it was like someone threw a rock in my roller skate. I tripped and fell out of my happy place, blinking one eye open to take a peek across the room.

Come and go, Trish.

Come and —

In fact, there is nothing more serious to me than this practice! Having a laugh? What a privilege! Yes, I’m a little upset that they’ve interrupted my hour of certain serenity. Yes, I’m bothered by their lack of consideration for others. But mostly? Mostly I’m jealous! Jealous that their lives must be so joyful, so painless, that this yoga practice feels like a goddamn joke. It’s impossible to imagine!

I’m pretty certain I’m not alone. Most of my classmates are my age or older. I’m certain most of them think that laughing at this ritual is so out-of-our-box, we cant even fathom it. And for that, I’m also jealous.

Eventually the girls settle down and so do I. Eventually, I honor the fact that their lives had not taken them to a place where they needed this sanctuary to feel OK again.

I send out an intention for the girls to hang onto that peace for as long as possible. And for the rest of us, to feel that peace, as much and as often as possible.

__

I felt that peace last weekend during my first yoga class, post-pandemic. Yoga in the Forest Theater. Where I kicked my feet up against a clear blue sky, grateful for this practice and the ability to come back to the mat, alive and well, and with a whole new community.

May the light in me see the light in you, always.

*deep breath*

Shavasana.

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